


My Hawk, My Freedom

by SapphyreLily



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima had always been friendless, but he had known friendship... Once. Takao always had friends, but true friendship was never an option... Except in the past. What secrets do the two of them keep, and how will it affect their relationship?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Kuroko no Basuke.

Midorima stumbled to his room, pulling open the door roughly before collapsing on the bed. He shakily reached for the top drawer of his bedside table, rummaging roughly through it before he came across what he was looking for: a tiny package, wrapped in muslin. He hurriedly unwrapped it, anxiety intensifying when he could not undo the knot and when the cloth did not unravel quickly enough. A deep sigh escaped him when the cloth finally gave up its struggle, its contents rolling out on his palm. The object’s slight weight comforted him somewhat, but another look at the item caused his emotions to ratchet up a notch as nostalgia overwhelmed him.

Midorima bit his lip, rubbing a thumb over the shiny wooden carving. It was the most treasured of his childhood memoirs, the only thing that could calm him down when he felt the overwhelming anxiety of peer pressure and social trauma. The carving itself was extremely old, and the grooves that marked what kind of animal it was worn smooth with the numerous times he had traced over them in the past. He rolled over, burying a muffled sob in his pillow as he gripped the small toy. Its tiny edges bit into his palm, but they were so weathered that they no longer caused any pain. Somehow, that fact only caused his grief to heighten.

_My friend, why did we have to part? Why could we not have stayed? You were my first friend, and the only one I had ever had over the years. And now… I can’t even remember your name._

Silent tremors wracked his body as his emotions ran rampant through him. The pillow was drenched and the light had long faded from the room by the time he had worn himself out. The small hawk in his hand could offer no comfort, its sharp eyes and rough edges now shabby and smooth, the promise it once represented lost in memories past.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Takao Kazunari yawned widely, stretching out over the handlebars of the rickshaw. It was not yet seven, yet he was already somewhat awake and waiting in front of Midorima’s house. He yawned again, deciding to close his eyes for just a minute. It wouldn’t hurt, especially since Midorima had not yet appeared, anyway. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and the weak rays shining through the clouds did nothing to alleviate his sleepiness. Why did he ever agree to pull around the ace of the basketball team again?

He drifted into a semi-dream state almost immediately, a clear image rising unbidden behind his eyelids. _Two young boys playing next to a dumpster, digging through the discarded fabrics of the tailor store. They grabbed long rolls of torn cloth, pretending they were birds and the cloth was their wings. They flew through makeshift skies, leaving their earthly troubles behind as they sank deeper into their make-believe world._

_Suddenly, the smaller boy tripped over something, and was sent rolling into the debris of the carpenter’s store. “Oww.”_

_“Shin-chan! Are you alright?”_

_“Yeah, I think so. What was that I tripped over?”_

_They crawled over to the misshapen object on the ground, and the other boy picked it up, examining it from all angles._

_“It’s a wooden block. And it’s almost completely whole! We could carve this into something nice, maybe a toy?”_

_“We’d have to find carpenter tools first. Do you think there are any in this junk pile?”_

_“Could be! Come on, Shin-chan, help me look!”_

_They spent what seemed like hours digging through the pile, getting grimy and dirty. The boy called Shin-chan kept coughing, and it worsened to the point that he could not stop hacking for a whole minute. The other boy paused his digging and pulled his friend away from the mountain of dust, patting his back until the coughing subsided into a slow wheeze._

_“I’m so sorry, Shin-chan! I completely forgot about your sickness! I shouldn’t have made you help me.” The boy’s eyes filled with tears, and he looked at the ground, afraid to see the rebuke in his friend’s eyes._

_He saw the slight shake of the other boy’s head, and Shin-chan tugged on his hand, placing something in it before closing his fingers over the item. It was smooth and cool, and the boy opened his hand slowly, scared of what he might find._

_A small chisel winked at him, its small size fitting perfectly in his palm. It was covered in wood shavings, but its blade was still sharp. The boy looked at his friend in shock. “Shin-chan, don’t you hate me for putting your life in danger? You could have had an attack and I wouldn’t have known how to help you!”_

_Shin-chan shook his head slowly, smiling at his friend. “I don’t care about my health. As long as I’m with you and you’re happy, that’s all that matters, Kazu.”_

A gentle shaking roused Takao, and he blinked blearily up at the person who was doing it. His tired eyes vaguely registered a shock of green hair and a pair of spectacles towering above him. The sun had risen higher in the sky, and the person appeared to have a halo of light outlining his body. _Pretty,_ he thought. _Really angelic._ Out loud, he said, “Shin-chan, is that you?”

A huff of exasperation was heard, and the person stepped back, taking the illusion with him. The unfettered light shone directly in Takao’s eyes, making him wince. A controlled voice answered him, oblivious of his discomfort. “Obviously. Who else could it possibly be?”

Takao sat up and stretched, yawning hugely. The dream was not yet completely out of his system, and he couldn’t help but notice how the boy in his dream was also called Shin-chan. A coincidence, perhaps? Was that a memory or a dream, anyway? It was too fuzzy around the edges to tell. Then again, it was so _vivid_ , it couldn’t have been just a dream…

He tried to reply as nonchalantly as possible to hide how disorientated he was. “Dunno. Maybe one of your neighbours, to chase off the vagrant who comes here every morning at the crack of dawn?”

“If you could cycle faster, then you would not need to arrive so early.”

“If school was not so far away and you and your lucky items weren’t so heavy, then maybe I wouldn’t need to come so early.” Takao settled himself in the bicycle as Midorima sat down in the cart, pushing off easily in the direction of Shuutoku High School.

“Speaking of lucky items, what’s it today? The cart seems awfully light.” Takao teased as he pedalled. Midorima was silent for such a long moment, he began to get a little worried. “Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I was just teas-“

“A memoir from your most trusted friend.”

“Most trusted friend…?” Takao couldn’t believe his ears. At the next traffic light, he twisted in his seat to stare at Midorima. “Who’s your best friend, Shin-chan? I’m curious.”

And he was. Midorima wasn’t the most approachable of people, with his weird idiosyncrasies and social awkwardness. He had excellent grades, but the lucky items he lugged around every day caused him to be a social pariah. No one wanted to be associated with him, even if he was the top student. He was at the apex of the school’s ‘loser’ list, and Takao could count the number of people he had as friends on one hand. Heck, one finger would do, as Midorima did not exactly count his Teikou teammates as friends. So… Who could it be?

Midorima looked away, a small scowl on his face. “None of your business. Drive, the light has turned green.” Takao faced forward reluctantly, mind in a whirl.  He couldn’t tell if Midorima was being his usual tsundere self or if there was something that he was hiding. He was right though. It _was_ none of his business. Even if they were sort-of friends. ‘Sort-of’ meaning that Takao pestered Midorima at every spare moment he had, and surprisingly, Midorima did not push him away.

They arrived on school grounds all too quickly, and Takao paused to let Midorima clamber out of the cart. He couldn’t stomach the heavy tension he had been feeling since that last traffic light, and blurted out before the other boy could leave. “Shin-chan, about what I said earlier. I’m sorry.” The taller boy raised his eyebrows in question, and Takao huffed impatiently. “You’re right that it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t be prying. So, I’m sorry.”

Midorima was silent again for a long moment, then he said, “You need not apologize. I suppose you have a right to be curious. I’m not exactly sociable, like how you are.” Takao grinned and was about to say something when Midorima interrupted him.

“I cannot remember their name.”

Now it was Takao’s turn to stare, and Midorima grew red under his scrutiny. “It was a long time ago, when I was a young child. That person was my only friend, and when we moved away, I never saw them again. I have the keepsake, but the person’s name and face are long gone from my memory.”

Takao pouted, though inside, his heart tore for the greenhead. “That’s kinda sad, isn’t it, Shin-chan? Not being able to remember your best friend?”

“No, nothing like that. It is simply an inconvenience.”

“Aww, Shin-chan, you tsundere.”

“Go and park the cart, Takao. I will bring your bag to class. Not because I want to, you understand?” Midorima turned away quickly, but Takao managed to catch a glimpse of his blushing face.

“Thanks, Shin-chan, you’re the best!”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The day passed by with little event, although Takao was dying to ask Midorima more questions about his forgotten best friend. He could tell that the other boy did not want to discuss it though, as he kept turning away every time he opened his mouth.

It was lunchtime before he could finally snag Midorima for a question-and-answer session, dragging the boy to their rooftop retreat despite his protests.

“Come now, Shin-chan. You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I was not avoiding you. There are simply other matters that require my immediate attention.” Midorima focused so intently on his bento, one would have thought that it would burst into flames. Takao rolled his eyes and snagged a piece of meat from Midorima’s bento box.

“Takao! Cease this childish behaviour!”

“No, Shin-chan, _you_ stop being childish. If you don’t want me to ask you more questions about your best friend, you could just say so, like a regular person. You don’t have to pretend that you need to do more math questions. Differentiation can go solve itself.”

For a brief second, Takao thought he saw a hurt look flash across Midorima’s face before the greenhead started spluttering about how it was impossible for math to solve itself. It was almost like their normal banter, comfortable and easy. The only problem was that Takao grew so sleepy from contentment that he almost face-planted himself in his bento.

“Takao. If you were tired, you could have just said it instead of talking to me.”

“Hmm? Is that an offer, Shin-chan? Thanks.” Takao scooted closer to Midorima and set his head on his shoulder. “Wake me up when it’s time for class.”

He could feel Midorima grumbling, but no move was made to push him away. He smiled to himself and allowed his mind to drift. As with earlier that day, a very realistic scene surfaced from the depths of his mind. He was beginning to question where these distinct visions came from, but the dream had already swept him away in its thrall.

_“Shin-chan, look, look! It’s a hawk!”_

_“Oh, wow! Kazu, you’re really good at this! Maybe you can be the carpenter’s apprentice.”_

_“Nah. He wouldn’t take in a brat like me. And if I became his apprentice, I would have less time to play with you, Shin-chan.”_

_“That’s true. You shouldn’t be his apprentice after all.”_

The dream shifted, and this time the boys were slightly older, and they were grasping each other’s hands like they never wanted to let go.

_“Shin-chan, you can’t leave!”_

_“I don’t want to either, Kazu. But my parents are leaving, and they refuse to leave me behind. I asked them if you could come, but,” he looked down and whispered. “They said a homeless brat like you wasn’t worth their pity and clemency.”_

_“But_ you _don’t think that, do you, Shin-chan?” Kazu sounded desperate._

_“No, never like that! You are my precious friend, I could never see you that way.”_

_“Then take this. A reminder of our friendship. Never forget me, alright, Shin-chan? We’ll meet again someday, for sure!”_

_“T-this… This is your hawk! I can’t accept this, it’s too precious!”_

_“Nothing’s as precious to me as Shin-chan. Never forget me, alright? Promise me!”_

_“I promise, Kazu. I’ll come back for you one day.”_

A soft shaking roused him from his sleep, and he tried to bite back a whimper that threatened to slip out. “Takao. _Takao_. What’s wrong?”

He couldn’t respond at first, still half-trapped in the dream. A fading flicker of images that was the conclusion showed him nothing decipherable, but the flurry of emotions that followed told him the gist of it. _The boys were never reunited._ It was as if he had lived out the moment himself because somehow, that knowledge was unbelievably heartrending.

A few more seconds passed, and his eyes belatedly noticed a worried looking Midorima peering down at him. Hold on, peering down at him? He snapped into awareness, and realised that somehow, he had ended up in Midorima’s lap. And that Midorima was still waiting for his answer. “N-nothing, Shin-chan. Just a really sad dream. Don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re crying.” Midorima lightly cupped his face, wiping tear tracks with his bandaged thumb. Takao took a few deep breaths, quelling the lingering sorrow that he felt for the boys. _Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream_. He chanted to himself. _Nothing but a dream. Focus on something else. Like how you’re lying in Shin-chan’s lap. Which, hmm, is actually pretty comfortable._

“It’s alright, Shin-chan. Really. You don’t have to do that for me. Your bandages will get wet.” He caught Midorima’s hand and pulled it away from his face, scrubbing away the remaining tear tracks. He then tried to sit up, but a firm hand to his chest pushed him back down. Emerald eyes met silver, and the determination shining in those gems told him that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Takao. We both know that nothing gets you down that easily. Tell me, and hold nothing back this time. What was so bad about your dream?”

Takao dropped his gaze, a few stray tears leaking out unbidden at the unexpected kindness. “Nothing much. There were two boys, and one of them was leaving because his family had to move. The one that was moving was sad because his friend was homeless and his parents didn’t want to help. And he felt really bad but he couldn’t do anything.” Takao threw a hand over his eyes, the tragedy of the situation seizing his ability to think. “I dunno, my mind’s coming up with a lot of weird things all of a sudden.”

He could feel Midorima stiffen under him, and squinted at his clenched jaw. “Shin-chan? It was just a dream, stop worrying.”

“What if it wasn’t a dream?” Midorima murmured softly, his hand jerkily tracing nonsense patterns on Takao’s chest.

“What?” Takao strained his ears. It did not help that he found Midorima’s nervous drawing soothing; it was making him sleepy again. “I didn’t catch that.”

Midorima repeated himself, and Takao could sense the tension radiating off him. “How could it not be just a dream, though? It’s not as if I know the boys.”

“Could you see their faces?”

“Uhm, come to think of it, not really.”

“It could be a supressed memory from your childhood. The brain sometimes works that way to block out traumatic experiences.”

“Really? I don’t know about that though. I can’t remember my childhood. Although,” he said thoughtfully, “One of the boys was named Shin-chan.”

Midorima’s hand stilled, clenching into a heavy fist over Takao’s heart. “Do you know anyone by that name?”

“Aside from you, nope. Not that I can remember. You seem awfully tense, Shin-chan. Is something wrong?” Takao reached up and poked Midorima in the cheek, only to have his hand slapped away.

“No, nothing.” He thought for a moment. “Actually, there is something.”

“Hmm?”

“What you just described sounds awfully like how I parted from my friend all those years ago. It was highly traumatic.” A faint crack of his voice gave him away, and Takao peered up at his friend in concern. If Midorima thought his experience was traumatic, then his dream could not possibly have come close. After all, dreams were not reality, as reality was harsher and more biting. It _was_ kind of weird that he had the same dream as described Midorima’s past though.

That was not important right now, he resolved. Midorima was many things, but upset and sad was not one of the things he wished to experience right then. Especially because they were in school, and he had already established that the boy was a total recluse. Embarrassing himself to death was definitely off the list for the day, principally considering that he would not do well to lose any of the little respect that their schoolmates paid him. Takao, however, had a lot of respect that he could throw away, in regards to a certain tsundere that he knew.

He decided to throw caution to the wind, flinging his arms around Midorima’s waist and snuggling close. It was the simplest way to get his attention, to draw his musings away from his current melancholic state. Unfortunately – or perhaps it was quite fortunate - this action resulted in him being half-on and half-off the greenhead’s lap. To heck with anyone who saw them like this. _If_ anyone saw them, that was. He was going to enjoy this guilty pleasure while it was still allowed.

“Takao. _What_ are you doing.”

“Shin-chan needs to be less gloomy. Maybe we met each other in the past, or maybe not, but right now, that’s all it is. _Past_.” He emphasized heavily on the last word while sneaking a peek to assess how much trouble he was in. To his relief, Midorima looked slightly annoyed, and the solemn air about him had already dissipated. He was certain that the dark things they spoke of were not completely forgotten, but at the very least, they were now suppressed. _In my opinion, an annoyed Shin-chan is a whole lot cuter than a sad Shin-chan._

The school bell rang just then, startling both of them and alerting them of the start of the next lesson. Takao sighed, reluctantly untangling himself from Midorima’s frame. He stood up, offering a hand to the basketball ace. “Come on, Shin-chan. We’re gonna be late. And if that happens, math really will have to solve itself, because you won’t be there to do it.”

“That is utter nonsense, and you know it. Just for that, I’ll ask Coach to give you extra training.” Midorima took the proffered hand, coolly brushing off Takao’s jibes.

“Hey! He wouldn’t agree to that! Shin-chaaan!!”

The two of them returned to class, feeling somewhat lighter after their somber talk. Despite that, a different sort of knowledge weighed heavily on both their hearts.

What _if_ they actually knew each other when they were children?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna bother with these notes lol, all these chapters came from ffnet anyway.

The last bell of the day had rung long ago, yet Takao was still slumped over his desk. Midorima looked over at the back of his head, sighing when he realised that the hawk-eyed player was probably still asleep. Picking up his bag, he walked over to Takao’s table, shaking the other boy’s shoulder in an attempt to rouse him.

“Takao. _Takao._ Wake up, we’ll be late for practice.” A soft grumbling met his ears, and the raven-haired boy burrowed deeper into the nest of his arms. Midorima frowned once, then resumed his shaking. “Wake up. Or do you want Miyaji-senpai to throw pineapples at us again?”

A drawn-out groan emitted from Takao this time, and he stretched his arms out, turning his head to the side to glare at Midorima blearily. “I hate you, Shin-chan. And I was having such a nice nap too.”

“I was planning to lend you my notes, but now I see that it is completely unnecessary.” He turned away, and had taken two steps when a warm body collided with his back, lanky arms wrapping themselves around his waist.

“Come on, Shin-chan. I’m sorry.” Takao’s voice was muffled where he had buried his face in Midorima’s jacket. The taller boy sighed, and attempted to pry the arms off him. “Let go, Takao. If we finish our quota early today, perhaps I might reconsider.”

“Really?” Takao sounded despondent, but he released his hold on the taller boy.

“I do not need to repeat myself.” Midorima walked towards the door of the classroom, but guilt caught up to him just before he stepped out, and he turned around to face Takao. The other boy was leaning against the table, head lowered, hands in pockets.

“Don’t mope- “He stopped short when Takao showed no signs of responding. In fact, his posture seemed to slump further, and Midorima had to keep himself from sighing again. He walked back to where Takao stood, trying to peer into his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Takao mumbled, bending down to retrieve his bag from the floor before walking away. “Let’s go to practice.”

“Did you have another sad dream?”

Takao stopped in his tracks, head half turned towards Midorima. “Maybe,” he mumbled. “Let’s just go to practice and forget all about it, okay?”

“How about we go home so you can sleep properly?”

This time, Takao did turn to face Midorima, slack-jawed with astonishment. “Shin-chan. Did you just suggest that we _skip practice_? To _sleep_?”

The green-haired shooter just turned away, a dash of red staining his cheeks. “It’s for your own good,” he muttered.

Takao burst out laughing, a sad mix of hysteria and helplessness. “Thanks, Shin-chan. But I think I just need to work it out of my system. Physical pain to overcome the mental pain, right?”

“Sometimes it’s not such a good idea,” came the soft reply.

“Yeah, maybe. But the Winter Cup’s coming up. We still need to practice. Let’s go, before Miyaji-senpai really does find us.” Takao smiled weakly at Midorima before walking out of the classroom.

The greenhead sighed deeply, reaching into his pants pocket to rub absently at the small wooden toy. _If you were here with me, my friend, what would you have done? Do I allow him to walk away, or do I drag him home to rest?_

There was, of course, no reply.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Takao rubbed his towel over his damp hair, before sitting down on a bench and leaning back against one of the lockers. Practice seemed unusually tough today, and several times he had to pause before black spots overcame his vision. Perhaps he should have taken up Shin-chan’s offer to skip, but at least now he was pleasantly tired and wouldn’t be able to dwell on the dreams – or memories, if he were to believe Shin-chan.

His head was throbbing rather badly though. Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried so hard. It wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for just a moment…

Midorima emerged from the shower and headed to the locker room. It was getting quite late, and he was worried about Takao. He looked like he was going to pass out more than once during practice, and even though he did not, all their senpai, and even Coach looked considerably concerned. Maybe he would insist on pedalling the rickshaw just this once.

Light was spilling out from the slightly ajar door of the locker room, but no sounds could be heard from inside it. _That’s odd_ , Midorima thought. _I believe all the senpai had left already. But if Takao was in there, he’d usually be singing._ _Don’t tell me he left already?!_

In his panic, Midorima pushed the door open too forcefully, and it hit the wall with a loud bang. Wincing at how the noise echoed through the empty corridors, he turned to scan the locker room, eyes widening in surprise at the sight he found.

Takao was leaning against the lockers, his towel still covering his head as he dozed. He looked a lot more peaceful sleeping now than he did earlier that day on the rooftop, or when they were in class. Permitting himself a small smile, Midorima approached his locker to retrieve his things, then turned to Takao’s locker to do the same.

He had just set Takao’s packed bag on the bench when the shrill ringtone of Takao’s phone cut through the air. Scrambling with the zipper, Midorima dug frantically through the bag, attempting to locate the source before it woke the sleeping boy across the room.

He finally unearthed the ringing device, and flipping open its cover, he saw the words ‘Mom’ scrawled across the screen. He snuck a peek at Takao. The raven-haired boy was still sleeping, for the incessant ringing had done nothing to wake him. Sighing just a little, Midorima pressed the ‘Accept Call’ button, bringing the phone to his ear. Immediately, a very loud voice assaulted his eardrums.

“Kazu! Where are you?! Have you seen the time? You were supposed to be home an hour ago!”

Midorima coughed delicately, and cleared his throat. “My apologies, Takao-san. This is Midorima Shintarou speaking. We had stayed back to practice a little more, and have only just finished our routine.”

“Oh, I see.” The woman on the other end lowered her voice, her tone turning disinterested. “Midorima Shintarou… I suppose you are the ‘Shin-chan’ that he likes to go on about?”

“…You suppose correctly.” Inside, he was seething. Who goes and tells their parents the ridiculous nicknames that they give their friends? _That was a dumb question. Obviously, Takao does._ But Takao-san was speaking again, and he was snapped out of his idle thoughts.

“My apologies, could you repeat that, please?”

She huffed in annoyance, and repeated herself, her voice just a little louder than necessary. “I said, can Kazu stay over with you for the night? It is too late for him to come back alone, and I believe he has mentioned that you live closer to Shuutoku than we do.”

Midorima was a little taken aback at the sudden request, but a glance at his sleeping partner decided his course of action. “Of course. It is a bit sudden, but there is no problem.”

“Very well. Thank you for putting him up with you. Oh, and one last thing.”

“Yes?”

The voice turned hard, and there was a bitter edge to it. “Do not call me Takao-san again. I am in no way related to him. Just because my husband took pity on him as a child does not mean that I accept the role of his mother.”

The flat tone of the ended call sounded in his ear a moment after, and Midorima lowered the phone in confusion. Not related? But the contact was listed as ‘Mom’. Perhaps he would ask Takao about it after he awoke and was in a better state of mind. There was no point in giving him extra stress at this stage, especially when the lady had sounded so resentful about it. First things first though, he had to inform his parents of their impromptu guest.

“Hello? Okaa-san? Yes, I will be returning home shortly. Can you prepare one more place at the table please? My friend is coming over.” He turned and looked at Takao, green eyes softening at his sleeping posture. “Do we have an extra futon that he can use? He needs to stay over, just for a night. No, nothing like that. His parents just don’t want him to return home so late, because he lives quite a distance from school. Yes, place it in my room. I will take responsibility. Thank you.”

He ended the call and walked over to the sleeping boy, brushing his bangs back from his face as he carefully removed the towel. Takao really did look peaceful sleeping this way. It would be a pity to wake him. Sighing at his own idiocy and soft heart, he stuffed the towel into Takao’s bag, grabbed his own bag and slung both of them over his head before bending over to pick Takao up.

Takao mumbled something incomprehensible before turning his head and snuggling into Midorima’s chest. It was a little distracting, but he managed to turn off the light with his shoulder and pull the locker room door somewhat closed with his foot.

He walked briskly to the doors of the gym, and was surprised to find the coach standing there. “Coach. I thought you had left already.”

“Hmm?” Coach Nakatani turned at the sound of his ace’s voice, eyes widening when he saw his burden.

“He fell asleep in the locker room. He’s staying over at my place tonight, I have his parents’ approval.” Midorima gave his coach the shortened version of what happened, neglecting to mention that Takao’s mother might not actually be his mother. _No point confusing others when even I cannot make sense of it._

“Very well. Thank you for doing this, Midorima. I know it is not easy for you. I will lock up, you go ahead. Oh, and Midorima?”

“Yes, coach?”

“For this, I will forgive an extra selfish whim tomorrow at practice.”

Midorima inclined his head in thanks, even though he knew he would not need it. Hoisting up the deadweight that was Takao, he bowed out of the open door that Coach Nakatani held for him, heading for the rickshaw.

After settling Takao in the back of the rickshaw, with their bags as his pillow, Midorima attempted to push the vehicle out of its tight space. It would not budge. Frowning, he mounted the bicycle attached to the cart, pushing on the pedals. It still would not move. Deciding to throw all caution to the wind, with not a care as to who might see him, he leaned forward, raising a little out of the seat as he had seen Takao do, using his weight to press down on the pedals. _It moved._

Sighing deeply with relief, Midorima continued the exhausting battle with the rickshaw until it had been pulled out of the tight lot. Now all he had to do was navigate it towards Shuutoku’s gates…

Fifteen minutes later, Midorima was sweating profusely and panting as hard as the time Coach made them practice for 2 hours without a break. And he had only just reached Shuutoku’s front gate. Turning around in the seat to grab his water bottle, he was once again met with the sight of Takao sleeping, except that he had now curled up into a tight ball, his face half-hidden in shadows.

It was quite the beguiling picture, to see his partner so vulnerable. Usually, Takao was the cheerful one, the carefree image of innocence. Up to that morning, he had no clue that everything he had witnessed before was a complete lie. A shell of protective armour, an impenetrable mask that deflected your misgivings by reflecting the image that he wanted you to see. He had no idea that underneath that mask was someone as fragile as he was, that his past was as riddled with secrets and unfathomable truths. That this perfect actor hid something behind his chirpy façade should have been of no surprise to him, yet he still felt a sense of irritation and wonder at being deceived for so long. _So this is why they say that in sleep, all pretenses fall away. He looks so young… What am I even thinking about?!_

Pushing back his drifting thoughts, he gulped down the water, grudgingly admitting to himself that what Takao did for him every day without fail was in fact, no easy feat. He had never needed to experience it before as he had never lost a game of rock-paper-scissors against Takao. Ironically, he was doing it now not because his luck had failed him, but because his luck never failed. _Trust Oha Asa to come up with something good out of every day’s bad experiences._

His mind flashed back to the broadcast this morning, the words still seared in his mind. _“Today is a day of new experiences for you, Cancer! Never fret, as long as you have your Lucky Item with you, no incident that comes your way is ever bad!”_

A wry smile found its way to his lips. Yes, this was an interesting experience indeed. Humiliating, yes, but it gave him a new-found appreciation for his partner. Another positive thought was that this incident would strengthen his leg muscles, which were a very important factor in his long-range shooting. _Maybe I should lose on purpose to get more of this gruelling training. Hah, now I sound like a masochist._

Stowing away his bottle, he pulled out his school jacket instead, and laid it over the sleeping figure. The autumn winds were chilly, and while he was getting an extra workout, his partner would surely catch a cold due to inactivity. _Curse my sudden fondness for Takao._

Satisfied with his handiwork, he turned back to face the front, and began the strenuous task of cycling them back to his house.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

A gentle shaking roused him from the depths of slumber, the warm embrace of unconsciousness. Mumbling illegibly, Takao tried to curl in on himself. _Just five more minutes._

“It’s been more than an _hour_ , Takao. Wake up, let’s have dinner and then you can go back to sleep.”

_Oh, I said that out loud? Hmm, that sounded awfully like Shin-chan. What was that about dinner…?  And sleep… Wait… WHAT TIME IS IT?_

Takao bolted upright, his head crashing into someone else’s. “Oww.”

“I should be saying that.” A muffled voice said. “Thankfully, my spectacles have escaped unscathed.”

“Shin-chan!” Takao’s eyes widened, the fog in his brain lifting just a little. “Wait. This isn’t the locker room.”

“No, it isn’t.” Midorima stated drily. “It’s my house, if you can recognize it.”

“Your house?” Takao took a quick glance at his surroundings, his hawk eye imprinting the basic blueprint of the area in his mind. _It_ is _Shin-chan’s house area. But how did we get here…?_

Another cursory glance. This time, his body registered the cold, hard wood beneath it, and the warmth of the jacket, now pooled in his lap. The gears in his mind rotated slowly, trying to make sense of what had transpired when he had been sleeping.

“You drove us here?” Takao’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. His eyes were wide in amazement, and he was slack-jawed with horror.

Drawing out a long sigh, Midorima stood up from where he had been bent over the cart and stretched. “Yes, I did. Would you please come in, and have dinner with us? I think both of us need the rest that follows it.”

“Shin-chan, wait!” Takao caught Midorima’s hand before he could walk away, and looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Why did you do this? Why am I here and not at home? Or still in the locker room?”

“I will explain in detail later. The short version is that your mother called, said it was too late for you to return home alone, and asked me to put you up for the night. Now can we please go into the house?” His green eyes shone dimly in the streetlights, and Takao belatedly realised that his partner’s legs were kind of shaking.

“Oh, Shin-chan. You shouldn’t have.” Takao scrambled out of the cart and pressed himself to Midorima’s chest, while allowing the taller boy to lean against him for support. “Pulling the cart is my job, not yours, Ace-sama. Don’t overwork yourself. Not again.”

A pair of trembling hands came to rest on his lower back, and a gentle weight came to rest on the top of his head. “Why are you so worried…? It was worth it, though.” Midorima murmured into Takao’s hair. “Oha Asa is never wrong.”

“Well, she must be wrong this time, because ‘new experiences’ should not include lugging around a sleeping person after a day of school and heavy practice.”

“… You listened to this morning’s broadcast?”

“Nah, just a recording. I was in front of your house when it was broadcasted, wasn’t I?”

A soft chuckle. “And you say that horoscopes are ridiculous.”

Takao snorted. “They _are_. But if it makes Shin-chan happy, then I’d gladly go along with anything.”

“What would make me happy is going inside.”

“You just made another joke, Shin-chan.” The raven-haired boy grinned, tilting his head backwards to look at the greenhead, and realising with a start that their faces were barely inches apart. Apparently, Midorima realised this as well, for he dropped his arms and turned away, but not before Takao saw the brilliant shade that coloured his cheeks.

“Let’s go inside. It’s quite late, so we will not be eating with my family, but you will get to meet them nonetheless.” Midorima picked up his fallen jacket from inside the cart, and handed Takao his bag. “Do we have to lock this? Would anybody steal it?”

Takao shook his head. “Why anyone would want that old relic is beyond me. But just to be safe…” He pulled out a bicycle chain from inside his bag, twisting it around the wheel and the nearest lamppost before locking it with a loud snap.

“Alright, I’m ready.” Trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere as he followed after Midorima’s retreating figure, Takao voiced the first thing that came to mind.

“Y’know, Shin-chan, when you said I would meet your family, it sounded like you were bringing home your girlfriend or something.” His tone was light and teasing, but he was answered more severely than he had imagined he would be.

“Do not mention that to my parents. They do not take lightly to jokes regarding relationships.”

“Why ever not? We’re teenagers. It’s bound to happen sometime.”

“Not if it tarnishes the name of my household.” Midorima smiled bitterly. “It may not matter to you, but I am to be betrothed sometime this, or the next year. There will be no one of my choosing that I bring home, not unless they were already on their list beforehand.” Saying so, he took off his shoes and left them at the entrance, walking into the house.

Takao slowly undid his laces and pulled off his shoes, his thoughts in turmoil. Shin-chan was to be engaged. To someone he didn’t love, to someone who would benefit his family, but not him. It was none of his business, and he shouldn’t be bothered by it.

What then was this dark feeling taking root in his heart?


	3. Chapter 3

"Thank you for the meal." Takao sat back on his haunches after polishing off the remaining food, which really was delicious. He had to compliment Midorima's mother when they were introduced. The only issue he had about this whole arrangement so far was that Midorima's family was awfully traditional - which led to them kneeling on tatami mats to partake of the meal. His knees ached from kneeling for so long, but as he was a guest, it wouldn't be very polite to complain. _Suck it up, Kazunari. It's your own fault for not sitting on tatami more often._

Sitting across from him was none other than the greenhead himself, delicately picking up stray rice grains stuck to his bowl. _He_ certainly didn't have a problem kneeling to eat, Takao thought morosely. _Ah well. Practice really does make perfect._ **_Don't forget, Shin-chan actually_ is _perfect._** _Ah, shut up, me._

It was a quiet, peaceful scene with the two of them moving at a languid pace befitting the post-meal mood. In the moment of tranquillity and idleness, Takao's thoughts drifted back to the conversation they had before coming into the house.

 _"I am to be betrothed sometime this, or next year."_   It wasn't exactly a surprise, he mused. Midorima came from old money, which most probably meant his family was one that believed heavily in following tradition. This in turn led to him being used as a tool for his family's purposes. _It's not his fault that he can't control his life, but why won't he fight back?_

The clinking of chopsticks and the customary murmur of thanks for the meal snapped him out of his reverie. He scrambled to stand up to help clear the dishes before he remembered that he shouldn't be doing so, but Midorima pushed him back down, sparing him the embarrassment of admitting his mistake. "You are a guest. I cannot make you help me with the chores."

"Aw, Shin-chan, come on. I'm only going to carry these to the kitchen, promise!" Takao pouted, although inside all he could feel was a heady sense of relief.

"No means no. Are you a child, to be making silly promises like that?" Midorima turned away with the dishes in his hands. "Bah. You're no fun. What's wrong with helping anyway?" Takao protested weakly.

"You are a guest, and so you will stay. I will be back shortly." Midorima left without a backward glance. Oh, good. It seemed as if he did not notice his awkward blundering. Despite the chagrin he was sure was showing on his face, Takao was grateful for the chance to stretch his legs. He quickly shifted from a kneeling position to sitting with his legs crossed, a sigh of relief escaping his lips.

"Not used to kneeling for long periods, huh?" A warm voice said. Takao jumped in surprise - how did his Hawk Eye miss the new addition to the room? In a flash, his back straightened and fists thudded to his knees as he swept his legs back into the formal kneeling pose in a slipshod attempt to look proper. Completing the hasty rearrangement of himself, he looked over to the other sliding door, where a regal middle-aged lady stood half-hidden in the shadow of the slightly open door. "Uhm..."

The lady chuckled, and stepped fully into the room, the hem of her elaborate kimono trailing on the mats. "No need to disguise it. It is perfectly normal for someone who is unused to this method of sitting to feel uncomfortable. Please, do whatever makes you feel most at home." She took her place at the table, arranging her skirts around her.

"Oh. Uh. Okay. Thank you." Takao unfolded from his rigid posture, slouching back into his cross-legged pose. The lady smiled at his evident relief, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Doesn't that feel better?"

"Yes it does, actually." Takao admitted. Having overcome his initial shock, he took a closer look at the lady in front of him. Her delicate features reminded him quite strongly of someone he knew...

Slapping himself internally, Takao hastily bowed his head to the lady. "I'm very sorry for not noticing earlier, ma'am. You must be Midorima-kun's mother, am I right?"

A tiny chuckle was heard from the older woman, and Takao raised his head to see her hiding a smile behind a sleeve. "Yes, I am. Perhaps some introductions would be in order. I am Midorima Fuyumi. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She bowed elegantly.

"I am Takao Kazunari. It's nice to meet you. I apologise for my earlier rudeness." An embarrassed flush crept onto his cheeks, both for the lack of poise and for his seemingly ungrateful behaviour.

"Oh, no, no. It's perfectly all right. Shintarou doesn't have many people over, so it's rather delightful to meet someone new."

"Oh?" Takao wasn't particularly surprised, but he was curious nonetheless. _Time to do some digging into Shin-chan’s past._ "Would his other friends be the Generation of Miracles, by any chance?"

"Yes. It doesn't seem as if he enjoys their company, but he does enjoy their fellowship, even if they all are a bit quirky. Don't tell him, or any of them, but based on first impressions, I believe you are the most sensible friend he has brought home so far." She said this in a conspiratorial whisper.

Takao couldn't hold back the smile that spread over his face, though the wisp of hope that he was holding on to quickly dissipated. _So that’s it. Shin-chan really doesn’t have any friends._ "Thank you, Midorima-san. Personally, I think they are all a bit weird too."

"Oh, call me Fuyumi. Midorima-san is my husband's name." She winked cheekily.

"Fuyumi-san." Takao tested the name, rolling it around his mouth as if it were a fine wine. _Okay, seriously. She’s too nice. I can’t see her forcing Shin-chan into doing something he won’t like._ Midorima Fuyumi smiled at his antics, before catching his attention with a question.

"I heard you offer to help clear the dishes with Shintarou earlier. Why?" She seemed genuinely curious, without a hint of condemnation for his doing of something completely outside public decorum.

Takao chose his words carefully, hoping not to fall into her bad graces because of a foolish miscalculation on his part. "I'm just used to it, I guess. I usually clear the dishes at home as well, as my sister doesn't help out much." A slow nod of understanding from Fuyumi. "Most guests don't even offer, though. I hope you don't think I'm insulting you, but it was a move that is not socially acceptable."

Takao cringed at her words. "Uhm, yes, I do know. I keep forgetting, because my family isn't fully Japanese, and my sister and I were raised with a mix of cultures and traditions. I don't suppose it's a good enough excuse, though." He laughed nervously, hoping that he did not just dig his own grave.

"No, it isn't. Although the fact that you are making an effort to correct it does take away some of the sting." Fuyumi only paused a moment before launching into a new topic. "Are you and Shintarou very close? I overheard the way you address him."

The raven-haired boy gulped. This was a touchy topic. How was he to explain that he just liked teasing the guy? Lucky for him that he was very good at improvisation. _The best lies are told with a touch of the truth._ "I think of him as a close friend of mine, but how he sees me, I don't know. Most of the time I call him that just to make him loosen up. He's so painfully shy, but I keep hoping that by acting more familiar, he'll be friendlier towards me, you know? But I think I already know that he's not that sociable, so I'll just be the bridge between him and everyone else." He tried to pull off an innocent grin, but had no idea if Fuyumi bought it.

She was about to say something when the first sliding door slammed open, revealing a very red-faced Midorima. "Okaa-san, I'll thank you to not bother Takao any longer. We have homework and school tomorrow." He strode over to his teammate and yanked him to his feet, then dragged him out of the room.

"Goodnight, Fuyumi-san! And thank you for the meal - it was delicious!" Takao called as he allowed himself to be pulled away. He thought he saw her raise a hand in acknowledgement before the door slid shut, but he couldn't be sure.

Turning to his very flustered teammate, he tried to play it cool by flashing his most idiotic grin. "So, Shin-chan. Where's your room?"

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Midorima sat at his study table, trying in vain to work on his homework. The carefree humming accompanying the sounds of the shower didn't help matters. He couldn't stop thinking about what he had overheard his mother and Takao talking about earlier.

_"I think of him as a close friend of mine."_

_"I call him Shin-chan just to make him loosen up."_

_"I'll be the bridge between him and everyone else."_

Midorima groaned lightly, rubbing his eyes with one hand. Curse Takao for being so thoughtful and nice and _kind_. Even if he had said those things just to appease his mother, it struck a chord in him that someone would bother to go that far. _No one's been that thoughtful. Not since_ him _, all those years ago._ His right hand idly traced the dips and curves on the little wooden hawk, mind going blank as the repetition calmed him.

Suddenly, a slim hand reached from behind him, plucking the little carving from his hand. Midorima whipped around in a panic, only to see Takao examining the toy with abject fascination. "This is cute, Shin-chan. Where'd you get it?"

"None of your business. Give it back." His voice shook with what sounded like barely contained anger, but was in actual fact, nervousness. He was almost certain that Takao wouldn't be so careless as to drop or mutilate the memoir, but Lady Luck had a way of abandoning people when they needed her most.

"Hmm, no. Not yet. I'm not kidding about how cute this is. The workmanship is a little shoddy, but I can't really tell 'cause it's so weathered." His tone was light, but Takao had a look of intense concentration on his face as he examined the little toy. Midorima was about to snap at him again when the concentration on Takao's face gave way to confusion. He saw him cradle the wood in his hands, turning it over and over as he scrutinised it, almost as if he was looking for something, muttering imperceptibly all the while.

"...feet. I inscribed its feet." As one part of what he was saying became audible, Takao looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing. "Shin-chan, do you have a magnifying glass?"

Snapping out of his trance-like state, he rummaged through a drawer for a moment, before wordlessly extracting and handing the tool to Takao. The raven-haired boy immediately took the eyepiece to the feet of the toy, scrutinising the fine details. A sharp gasp and a shocked look passed over his face, right before he turned to the greenhead, his intense gaze boring holes in the other boy’s skull. "Where'd you get this, Midorima?"

The shooting guard felt more than a little taken aback at Takao's sudden change in temperament. The difference in the way he addressed him immediately tipped him off that something was wrong. The feeling was akin to being on the receiving end of those death threats all over again... _No, don’t think about that._ Swallowing nervously, he tried to school his voice into neutrality. "From my friend, all those years ago. That's today's lucky item, if you were wondering."

But Takao didn't seem to be listening any longer. His eyes glazed over, and he shrank back, muttering to himself again. This time though, his words were comprehensible. "No... Could it be...? But the evidence... Has to be... Don't know anymore..."

Midorima felt increasingly worried for the point guard, who seemed to be in a state of complete disbelief. After some internal debate, he reached out a tentative hand to place on Takao's shoulder, only to be shocked into muteness when he was pushed away. "Don't talk to me right now, please. I need to think." The coldness of his tone was as much a stab to Midorima's roiling emotions as was the lack of his nickname usually added at the end of the sentence.

He drew back his arm slowly, even though his initial reaction was to jerk back as if he had been burned. "Very well, if you insist. Your futon is the one on the far right, further away from the wall. Lights go off in half an hour." He hated how indifferent he sounded, how his tone could be so detached and emotionless. It felt like he was speaking to a stranger, and he despised himself for it. He turned back to his incomplete homework, trying to ignore the phantom ache of his heart at the sight of Takao clenching his fists around the magnifying glass and his precious toy. Maybe he would stop lying to himself sometime, and acknowledge that it wasn't just because he might have lost his only friend that he felt as wretched as he did. There was one more thing he wanted to know, though... _Better now than never_.

"Takao, may I ask what is so interesting about the hawk's feet?" He regretted the words almost as soon as he said them, for the ravenhead looked as if he couldn't decide whether to throttle him or cry. A few tense moments passed.

"...Maybe I'll tell you later. Let's finish our homework first, all right?" Takao walked over to the futon designated for him and sat down with the stack of worksheets, the tiny figurine placed carefully next to it.

Midorima tried to numb his mind with work, but he couldn't concentrate. His mind kept trying to discern whether the soft plopping sounds of water coming from behind him stemmed from Takao's dripping hair, or his tears.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It was much later that night - when Takao was finally asleep - that Midorima got a chance to peer at the hawk's feet. The memoir had been returned to him, albeit somewhat reluctantly, before they had retired to bed. _And he refused to tell me about it in the end. The liar._

The clock read 3:03 A.M. when Midorima snuck to the bathroom, toy and magnifying glass in hand. _I must have fallen asleep for a while - it is already late._ Perching on the edge of the covered toilet seat, he squinted at the feet of the hawk through the glass. It seemed as if there was nothing at first, perhaps due to the glare of the light above him. As he angled the tool and his eyes adjusted, he thought he saw a few squiggles on the footpad of either of the hawk's feet. They were really tiny though.

Unwilling to give up when he had uncovered the first clue of the mystery, he kept adjusting the position of the magnifying glass, hoping to get a clearer picture. _How Takao read these, I'm not sure. Does his Hawk Eye work for seeing tiny details as well?_

It took an obscene amount of time to rearrange the components of his mini-experiment before the squiggles began to make some sort of sense. They looked like Japanese kanji, at the very least. By now, Midorima was feeling quite irritable and put-out, which would explain why he did not believe his eyes when he could finally read the inscription.

He leaned backwards, rolling his stiff neck and scrunching his eyes shut before peering at the inscription again. The words were still the same. _I don’t believe it. No, I don’t_ want _to believe it. But the evidence is glaring at me in the face. **Move on, already. It grows late.**_

Deciding to leave the words’ meaning alone for the moment, he turned his attention instead to the way they were crafted. They were impossibly tiny, hidden in the groove of the hawk's feet. In all his years of owning the little figurine, he had never thought of looking at its small, well-carved feet. _Then again, I should have known. They are quite elaborate, compared to the rest of the body_. The longer he thought about it, the more curious he became. _If the feet are this well done, and the body is a close enough match in terms of craftsmanship, then perhaps there is something hidden there too._

The wings were larger than the feet, but the feathers had their fair share of wear and tear. That certainly meant that he didn't have to squint as much, but it meant he had to try harder if there was any hidden message inscribed upon the hawk’s body. At a glance, the whole bird looked ordinary, but upon closer inspection, there were definitely feathers that did not seem to mold  as seamlessly to the others. There was a break in the flow, which meant there was an opening to investigate. Midorima held back a smug smile. _Never underestimate the power of an astute mind and superior intellect. **You know, you sound**_ **just _like Akashi._** _I am superior. Maybe not to Akashi, but still._

Before long, he had traced the broken stream back to its source, located in the second row of feathers from the apex of the right wing. 'Shi' came first in the peculiar pattern of broken hiragana. 'N' was next. The suffix 'chan' was quick to follow, and Midorima began to trace the curious letter carved into the wings of the hawk. Interestingly enough, it was even written in a manner that would read like a letter, stemming from right to left, and top to bottom. As his sharp mind unwound the code into understandable language, he marvelled at the hours that his friend had toiled in order to bring this into being. _Hidden under my nose all these years, and I realised nothing. And I had the audacity to wear out the words with my constant rubbing of the wood._ A corner of his mind felt duly shamed for disfiguring such a beautiful art piece, while the other was too busy deciphering the code to be bothered about such trivial details.

At long last he completed his examination of one wing, yet the message seemed incomplete. He tried to focus on the adjacent wing, but his vision grew blurry and would not focus, no matter how many times he blinked. A wave of dizziness hit him as he straightened, and he had to catch himself on the edge of the sink, nearly dropping his precious treasure as he did so.

_Okay, definitely time to stop. I can always continue tomorrow, Takao can't insist on taking it away from me. He has no evidence, other than what's written on the hawk's feet..._

Yawning widely, Midorima left the sanctuary of the bathroom and replaced the hawk and the magnifying glass where he had found them. As he slipped in between the warm sheets of his futon, the half-deciphered message replayed in his mind.

**From: Takao Kazunari**

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**Shin-chan,**

**I wonder if you'll find this message. It's pretty well hidden, if I say so myself. I always meant to give this to you, because you found it first. I know you're going to leave someday-**

What would the rest of the message say? Midorima wondered. He knew that neither of them had been prepared for his family's abrupt leaving, so it couldn't be that. His thoughts ran round and round in circles, always coming to a dead end. The longer he pondered, the drowsier he became, until muddled thoughts finally gave way to the silence of sleep.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

_”Kazu, I can't take this! It's your precious hawk!"_

_"Nothing's more precious to me than Shin-chan. Never forget me, alright? Promise me!"_

_"I... I promise."_

_Rough hands grabbed him from behind, pulling him away from his friend. "No! Let me go! Kazu!"_

_"Shin-chan!" The other boy was being held back in a similar fashion, but one hand remained outstretched towards him._

_"I'll never forget you!" Shintarou shouted, just before his mouth was covered and he was hauled away from the dusty Dumpster where they had spent so much time playing._

_Even as he was carried away, he could hear the anguished cries of the other boy echoing in his ears. He choked back his own mournful mewl, knowing that it wouldn't get him anywhere, and that it might even cause his last momento to be taken from him._

The scene blurred into another, and he found himself standing in the darkened study of his father.

_"Shintarou." He flinched involuntarily, waiting for the blow. It never came, but a disappointed sigh was heard in his place. His heart sank. That sigh never brought good news. His fate was now worse than if he had been hit._

_"We have been here for less than a week, and yet I have already had complaints about you. What have you done?"_

_"Nothing!" He tried to hold back his tears. "They wanted to take my bento, but I refused to let them have it, then they hit me-"_

_"And you hit them back?" His father roared, and he shrank back, his indignant words shrivelling up. "Have your mother and I taught you nothing? Never hit anyone back, even if you feel that they started it first! Physical confrontation is for the weak. Use your mental prowess to fight back! Did God give you a brain for nothing?"_

_The man stopped and took a deep breath, glaring at his son through narrowed eyes. "No, I take that back. God gave you brains, but you have wasted them. Wasted them on that good-for-nothing orphan friend of yours."_

_Shintarou wanted to scream at him. **Kazu is not good for nothing!** But his father carried on with his tirade, oblivious to his son's quiet anger. "From this day forth you will speak nothing of that person. Do not let me hear you mention him, do not dare to act like him and don't even _ think _about him. You are a Midorima, and you_ will _uphold this family's values." His tone left no room for argument, and when he turned away a moment later, Shintarou knew he had been dismissed._

_He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as he exited the study quietly, making a silent vow to never forget, no matter how many times they tried to beat it out of him._

The shrill screech of the alarm cut into the dream, ripping it away from him. As the last threads of the dream faded into the morning light, he knew that he had done the unforgivable. He had done what he had vowed never to do all those years ago.

He had forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

Takao didn't know if this situation was more awkward or tense. He was pedalling the cart once again, and Midorima was sitting in the back, studiously ignoring him. Their conversation the previous night had impeded all further conversation that day, and they had only spoken in monosyllables, nods and grunts. It was so odd that he just felt like screaming out against it all, but he knew the reason behind all of it was the way he was currently acting.

However, he still didn’t know how he felt about the whole matter. That little hawk Midorima had… It was evidently gifted to him by none other than Takao himself. Yet he could not remember a thing about it, unless he counted the odd dreams/flashbacks he had been having recently. The flash of inspiration he had felt to check the feet of the figurine did not apply to anything else, and he felt as if he were missing out on something.

That said, he could not find it within him to take back the figurine, even though he felt an urgent need to examine it further for clues. He knew that Midorima had already taken the time to pore over the figurine the previous night – he had seen the faint light peeking out from underneath the bathroom door, and the bespectacled shooter had not returned to his futon until two hours later. _Perhaps that is why he looks so tired today. **Why do you care? You were mad at him, remember?** Yeah… But he’s still my Shin-chan. No one else would care if I didn’t. **So you still care.** Yeah, I guess I do._

“…kao. Takao. Oi, are you listening to me?”

“Hmm?” He snapped back to reality and glanced blearily over his shoulder, meeting worried green eyes. No, not just worried. Midorima looked hesitant, as if he were afraid to say more than he should. His normal uncaring demeanour had cracked, which was probably why Takao had never seen that look before. At the beginning of their partnership-slash-friendship, Midorima would either have a disapproving look in his eye, or a stony expression. Never hesitancy, as if he were afraid of saying something that might offend him. “What is it, Shin-chan?”

Midorima looked slightly taken aback, and beneath his disorientation, Takao could relate. If he had been on the receiving end of the cold shoulder, he’d be wary if the person suddenly switched back to being friendly. And in the first place, Midorima wasn’t known to be the most trusting of people. It had taken him forever just to loosen up the stiff shooter, and that alone took tireless persistence that no one else he knew had.

”I was going to say that… No, never mind. Drive, the light has turned green.” He turned his back, and all Takao could do was continue pedalling, confusion and a hint of guilt swimming through his mind.

As they approached the school, Midorima spoke up again. “Takao. This…disagreement between us. Do not let it affect our play during training. Coach and the senpai would not be pleased.”

 _Funny. That sounded more like a request than a demand_ , Takao mused. Out loud, he replied, “Sure thing.” His voice sounded weird, even to his own ears. It sounded like steely disinterest, though he couldn’t quite place what he was expressing. _I kinda sound like I’m talking to someone I really dislike – like I can’t even stand the thought of talking to them._ He thought he heard Midorima wince, as if he were thinking the same thing, but what he said instead was, “I’ll take your bag to class.”

It wasn’t really a statement. No, more like a question, with the same halting hesitancy as before. Almost as if he were trying to acquiesce to Takao, when usually, it was the other way around. _And Shin-chan isn’t nice to anyone on a regular basis. Heck, yesterday was him being nice. Today, he seems… Scared._

Midorima was acting really out-of-sorts today. Then again, so was he.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Nothing out of the ordinary happened in class. He took notes in some classes, slept in some, and laughed with his other classmates at the right time, even if it was a bit forced. Midorima did not attempt to speak to him at all, and by lunchtime, he was feeling rather discomfited. _Though I’m usually the one bothering him, he would attempt to wake me up some of the time._

The notes he would usually have received from his stoic partner(for the lessons he slept through) did not make an appearance either. The lunch bell took too long to ring that day, and in addition, he was pulled aside by some of the class committee as he was about to make his way to their usual haunt. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the greenhead slip out of the classroom quietly, bento tucked under his jacket.

After he finally got away from committee duties, he wandered onto the rooftop, only to find it empty. He sat down in the shade, thoroughly disheartened and with a disturbing sense of unease in his chest. Where could Midorima have gone? It wasn’t like he was very sociable, he wouldn’t have gone to the cafeteria. There was hardly any other private place in the school either. That was the main reason why the two ate lunch on the rooftop every day.

Yet, as the sun travelled across the sky and the school bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Midorima still had not appeared. Takao trudged back to the classroom wearily, only to find that the greenhead was already there, completing homework for the previous classes. The sight of him calmly sitting there incensed him, and he marched over to his table, forgetting that they were not on speaking terms. He slammed his hands down in uncontrolled fury, and shocked green eyes met irritated silver. “Where were you, Shin-chan? I spent the whole of lunch waiting on the rooftop!”

“I…” Midorima looked uncertain, guilty and… Was that a hint of relief? “I thought you were angry at me.”

“That doesn’t mean you break all of our established routines, does it?”

“…I would have thought you would rather not spend time with the one you are having a disagreement with.” Midorima spoke to his desk, voice scratchy.

“No, I suppose not.” Midorima seemed to hunch over even more. “But where were you?”

“Hiding in the restroom.” The other boy muttered, straightforward as ever. _This guy could give Kuroko a run for his money, and yet they cannot seem to stand each other_. _Wait, did he say…?_ Takao could only stare at Midorima in exasperation and disbelief.

“Seriously? Shin-chan, you’re not in elementary school, no one does that anymore!”

“I just did. Now shut up, class is beginning.” The hue of red on Midorima’s cheeks darkened, and he waved Takao away before the teacher could catch him. The ravenhead took his seat, more than a little disgruntled - even though Midorima’s response was closer to normal than any other conversation they had had the entire day. He didn’t manage to pay attention in the rest of the lessons, so puzzled was he over the greenhead’s actions. **_Then again, how would_ you _feel if your only friend was mad at you?_**

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The swish of the net and the thump of the ball against the wooden floor jolted Takao from his reverie, and he quickly passed the ball to Midorima, who shot another three flawlessly. He didn’t think that their dispute could have reached the rest of the school so quickly, so what was with all the concerned looks the Coach and their senpai were giving them? His form wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?

“Alright. Pack up. Takao, Midorima, I’d like to speak to the two of you.” Coach Nakatani’s voice echoed from where he stood off the side of the court, and Takao tossed the ball he was holding to another first-year. The other boy fumbled and dropped the ball, and all eyes turned to face Takao. He kept his face blank as he made his way off the court, berating himself internally. _Stupid. It’s not like you to miss a simple pass. Now everyone definitely knows something is wrong, even if they didn’t before._

Coach was already waiting with Midorima, and as Takao approached them, he began speaking in his quiet, measured way. “Did something happen between the two of you? Your level of play has dropped drastically, about seventy percent.”

“My apologies, Coach. It took us too long to return to my residence last night, and we are both exhausted. It does not make up for our poor performance today, but I take full responsibility.” Midorima spoke up before Takao could even think of a response, his head bowed sincerely. Takao and Coach stared. Was this really Midorima Shintarou, the number one shooter of the Generation of Miracles? The boy was usually so prideful he would push the blame to someone else, yet here he was, trying to take the blame for Takao’s lack of focus.

“Hmm. Midorima, you may go. I’ll not hold it against you this time. Takao, I would speak with you privately.” Midorima looked alarmed, but Takao waved him off with a weak smile. At that, the greenhead’s expression closed off, returning to its stoic state, but not before he saw a flicker of uncertainty and fear. Their coach made sure the shooter was well out of earshot before addressing him.

“Takao. It’s not like you to be so out of it. I would expect it of Midorima on one of his ‘off days’, but your level of play has decreased so much it’s as if you had never undergone any training in the past half a year.” Takao dropped his head, thoroughly admonished. “Is there something you’d like to share?”

“…Shin-chan thinks I’m mad at him.” Takao admitted softly, and Coach Nakatani raised an eyebrow. “We had a bit of an argument last night.”

“Whose fault was it?”

“I don’t know. It’s complicated.” Coach Nakatani sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We cannot have two of our starters to be in further disagreement, it offsets the rest of the team. Resolve it soon. Do not allow it to affect your play any longer.”

“…yes, sir.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Back in the locker room, Midorima slid a note and a stack of papers into Takao’s locker before slipping out through the back door. He was certain that the ravenhead wouldn’t see him, for he was still talking to the coach, and the rest of the senpai were in the shower. If he had to forgo a shower to avoid the awkwardness between himself and Takao for the rest of the night, then so be it. He needed to think.

Once outside the school gate, he broke into a light jog. The feel of the wind whipping through his hair was calming, and he let his suppressed emotions surge forth, unrepressed.

He had woken up that morning conflicted, mostly due to his dream of forgetting his friend. He was ninety-five percent certain that Takao was the same friend he had forgotten all those years ago, but a part of him still resisted acknowledging it. After all, many things could change in the span of ten years, and he knew that even if Takao had not changed, he himself had.

_Reality is harsher than imagination or dreams._

Growing a healthy dose of distrust for any and everyone was just one part of his change. It wasn’t just his parents that had warranted that sort of treatment, it was anyone who had attempted to be his friend over the years. Even now, he could still hear their voices.

_“Hey, check out that freak over there. You think that’s his natural hair colour?”_

_“Maybe, but unlikely. Who’d want to look like a tree all the time?”_

_“Why don’t you fight back, huh, Midorima? Are you as dumb as wood too?”_

_“Trees don’t talk. Shut up and get away from here, freak.”_

Breathing out heavily, Midorima pushed back the tears that came with the memories. It had become second nature to him, to suppress the feelings that accompanied the bullying. Usually, at this time, he would think about his faceless, nameless friend, the one who kept him sane in those times. _My support, my pillar._ But now that he was almost certain that said friend was Takao, he couldn’t rely on those memories any longer.

_“Don’t talk to me. I need to think.”_

_Even Takao has betrayed me._ There really wasn’t anyone in this world that he could trust at all. Any time that he felt that he could trust someone, some situation would occur to remind him that in the end, all people were the same. They always thought for themselves first, put themselves first, and beat others down when there was a need for it. Humans had multiple-faceted natures, and in his experience, the one emotion they always fell back on was scorn, because it made them feel better about themselves. _What have I done to deserve this treatment? What have I done to wrong you?_

**_As long as you have confidence in yourself, why should the opinion of anyone else matter?_ **

_That is true. But I am_ not _confident in myself. How can I be, when I have nothing to show for it? I have nothing to be proud of. I am weak, and depend on a faceless person to be my pillar._

_I am weak._

His voice echoed hollowly inside his mind, leading to yet another depressing thought. There were two types of people in the world. The ones who crumbled under adversity, and the ones who pushed back and fought under pressure. Midorima could safely categorise himself under the former, as he had been running from his troubles for years. _I need to stop thinking about it._ Taking a few shuddering breaths, he choked out a few lines of a song that he had heard Takao singing before, in the hope that the steady rhythm would calm him.

_“Kyou no itami… Kuyashisa… Ashita e tsurete…”_

_Does pulling your struggles along to the next day really make you stronger?_ He wondered tiredly. _Or would leaving them behind be better? Then again, if we forgot the struggles we have gone through, we would not learn or grow into better people._

**_Shutting out anyone who tries to help isn’t such a great thing either, but you still do it._ **

_I know. But who has earnestly tried to understand my struggles and to help me? It is my fault that I am unable to stand up to adversary, to push for the things that I want._

_I cannot trust anyone to bear my burden with me. Every day shows me why I lost my faith in humanity so long ago._

Takao’s face rose unbidden in his mind. The laughter and carelessness that he exuded most of the time, the earnestness with which he did things. It was that unyielding straightforwardness that led Midorima to slowly let down his guard, for someone that transparent could not possibly bear him any ill-will. _Or so, I thought_.

Takao’s face the previous night had shown not just mere distrust, but was a reflection of every negative emotion he had the misfortune of facing before. A sudden wave of despondency threatened to overwhelm him, and Midorima slowed to a walk, tilting his head backwards to keep the tears from falling.

_For every nice word or action you have given to me, I have not reciprocated or taken gratefully. I’m sorry for not being more straightforward, for not remembering that every action has to have a reaction._

_I’m sorry for not taking advantage of your kindness earlier._

_Because now you hate me, as many others have before._

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Takao returned from the shower and opened his locker, wondering where Midorima had gone. He thought that they would still stick to their routine of returning home together, even if they _were_ having a spat. The bulky bag was lifted away to reveal a stack of neatly written papers hidden beneath it, with a folded note on top. After opening the note and scanning through it quickly, he almost crumpled it up, so thoroughly irked was he. _God, that guy is so_ dense _sometimes. How long did he think I would be mad at him for? And I’m not actually mad at_ him _in the first place!_

He rubbed the towel through his hair, incensed, and roughly shoved the notes into his bag. All he wanted to do was slam his head into his locker, but if his poor performance in practice that day had made the senpai suspicious, then hitting the lockers would surely confirm that he was unwell. Instead, he growled in frustration and packed up, leaving the locker room without a word.

As he pedalled the much-lighter cart along the deserted roads, his mind kept drifting back to the note in his locker.

_Takao,_

_I will be leaving first. Here are the notes you missed out in class, and others besides. I am sorry for not waiting, but I need to think about some things._

_I beg your forgiveness for all the things I have done to upset you._

_Midorima_

_Really,_ he fumed, pedalling faster. _Do I_ look _like a monster? People screw up all the time, you don’t just run away because you think someone’s mad at you._

Without the extra weight in the cart, he was practically flying along the streets, and as he turned onto the last intersection that would lead him to Midorima’s house, he saw a tall figure walking along, head bowed. Yanking on the handlebars, he parked quickly at the side of the road, sprinting madly to catch the person by the arm before wrenching them back to face him.

To say Midorima was surprised by Takao’s sudden appearance would be a major understatement. As it was, he was frozen in place, red-rimmed green eyes staring into pale grey. Takao huffed in exasperation, when it seemed that his friend was making no move to do, well, anything at all.

“Shin-chan.”

Midorima flinched at the sound of his voice and tried to pull his arm back, but Takao kept a firm hold on it. To his credit, the greenhead was putting up a fair struggle, for someone who looked half-dead. “Will you just listen to what I have to say, you tsundere? Stop fighting me!”

“If you are angry and wish to have me leave you alone, you do not have to chase after me to reprimand me. I’ll leave willingly. I’ll never speak to you again, if you so wish it.” Midorima grumbled, but his voice hitched in several places as he tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

“Is that what you’re worried about? I’m not mad! Just listen to me already, won’t you?!” He backed the taller boy up against a wall, and even though he was the shorter one, Midorima seemed to melt under the fury of his gaze.

“…just get it over with.” Midorima whispered. Takao glared at him, but the more he did, the more the other seemed to wilt. It was very odd, considering that this was a person who couldn’t care less of what others thought of him, yet before the only person he would have considered a friend, he was nothing more than a scared, compliant puppy.

“Shin-chan.” The greenhead would not meet his eyes. “Midorima Shintarou,” Takao ground out, grabbing his face between his palms and forcing their eyes to meet. “I am not angry at you.” He worded slowly, hoping that his reasoning would get through the other’s thick skull. “Whatever could have possessed you to think so?”

“You were angry last night.”

“That was last night!” He softened his tone as Midorima recoiled, but never once let go of his face. “Every day is a new day, and you shouldn’t keep holding a grudge from the previous day. I am not mad at you. Really. Will you believe me?”

“Cancers forgive, but never forget. It is difficult to rebuild trust once one has lost it.”

“And you want to give up just because of one little thing? Heck, Shintarou, we don’t even know if that little wooden doll was really from me to you. It was so many years ago, so why do you still hold such faith in it?”

“And why do you not?” Midorima’s voice was filled with a quiet conviction that wasn’t here previously. Takao felt a little taken aback, but stood his ground. “I have only ever had one friend before I met you, discounting the fact that we may have been friends in our childhood. To throw away the only existing proof that someone has enjoyed my company just for myself alone is not easy for me. _Nobody_ has made an effort to understand me as much as that person once did. Is it that difficult to understand that all I want is to be accepted?” His voice grew increasingly frantic, and Takao slid his hands down to Midorima’s broad shoulders, pulling him forward into an awkward embrace.

“…no, it isn’t.” He whispered, and Midorima ceased his struggling, as if shocked into listening for the first time in many minutes. Takao swallowed nervously, his voice cracking as he admitted something that he refused to give thought to for years. “I don’t remember my childhood very well either. But if you think that all those people who try to hang out with me are my friends, then that’s where you’re wrong.

“Each and every one of those people try to make use of me for their own whims. Not one of them has spoken to me as bluntly as you have, or in as straightforward a manner. People are so cruel sometimes, you know?” A pair of large hands rose to squeeze his shoulders in answer, and he continued dispiritedly. “They only want the best for themselves, and so make use of others to do it. Sometimes, it’s alright to help them. But other times, it’s like having a leech stuck to you.

“And when you find a friend that you truly do not mind spending time with, because you know that what you see is what you get, how can you resist? It’s finding out that perhaps the world isn’t as cruel a place as you once thought it was, and perhaps there is hope for the most corrupted of humanity after all.

“Last night… I was confused and worried and scared. Of what I can’t remember, and what I could have lost. But I have come to see that it doesn’t matter. What matters is the here and now. Why bother with the past if it cannot be changed?”

Hands tightened around his frame, and he felt the silent sobs that forced their way out of his partner’s body. _I am a fool, for not seeing that. I am not the only one in this world who has been used and left behind,_ Midorima thought bitterly.

“Will you forgive me?” His voice was hoarse - almost inaudible - and Takao could feel hot tears sliding down his neck. “Can we start over? You are right - whether or not we knew each other in the past is nothing. It’s the things that we have the potential to do that matter.” _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…_

_You are better than you give yourself credit for, and I am a cowardly worm. Please, take me back._

_Take me back._

Takao closed his eyes, forcing back the tears that pricked at their corners. “I could never hold a grudge against you, Shin-chan. Yesterday, I really _was_ confused. I had not seen that toy in many years, and even then, it is nothing but the faintest memory to me. I was not angry at you, but at myself.”

“Then let us forget about this misunderstanding. It will not be easy for me to do, but I will make a conscious effort.”

“Silly Shin-chan. Everything you do is to the best of your ability. I trust you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Midorima squinted at the little figurine through the magnifying glass, pages of homework scattered all over his table. He knew he had told Takao that he would forget about it, the cause of their problems, but it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He was not a person who left things half-completed, which was why he was trying to decipher the hidden message even though he should have been studying.

By his left hand was a scrap of paper on which he had written the message he had uncovered so far. He deduced that the reason why he had spent so long deciphering the message the previous time was because he could not see it properly, and because he kept forgetting the words after he had read through them.

Yet, transcribing the message seemed more difficult this time, and he knew not why. He had the advantage of better lighting, a comfortable chair, and stationary. **_Perhaps it is because you do not actually feel like getting to the bottom of this after all._** _That is a sensible answer, but I am compelled to do this. Where is my motivation when I need it most?!_

Sighing, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. Maybe his inner voice was correct and he did not really feel like finding out more. After all, if he managed to remember, then he would have an advantage over Takao by having more childhood memories. Those memories might start to blend together with the memories they had made together over the past year, and he might accidentally bring them up in an argument. _I do not want to argue with him again._

_And then… There is the issue of his ‘mother’… I have not yet spoken to him about it. What is this emotion that is curdling my insides? I feel that I have an obligation to tell him that I am withholding vital information… Is this what they call guilt?_

A subtle vibration caught his attention, and he groped among the pile of papers until he uncovered his cellphone. Flipping it open, he found an email from Takao. _This is almost like déjà vu._

His thumb hovered over the ‘Open’ button, touching it briefly then flitting away. Should he open it? _The worst that could happen is Takao asking about his mother calling, and me picking up on his behalf. The best that could happen is him speaking of some trivial nonsense as per usual. The probability of the former occurring is significantly lower than the latter. **Just open it. Don’t be a wimp.**_

Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he clicked the button, afraid of what he might find. His eyes scanned through the message quickly, and he released a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. Takao was simply asking for the day’s homework. His thumbs flew over the keypad as he typed a straightforward reply, too engulfed in relief to actually read through it before pressing ‘Send’.

He had just set the device down when it buzzed again, and he scooped it up eagerly. _Why am I so excited? It is only a message, and it may not be from Takao._ He opened the message quickly to stop himself from forming a self-deprecating reply.

_From: Takao_

_Message:_

_Aww! You’re so sweet, Shin-chan! It’s a date!_

Midorima’s mind went blank. _Wait, what?_ He scrambled to open his ‘Sent’ folder to read the most recent message he had sent out. In his haste, the words slid past his vision, and he could not comprehend the words the first few times he read through them.

_To: Takao_

_Message:_

_Pages 41-44. If you require help remembering such a simple thing, then I suggest you come over and study tomorrow._

Midorima put his head to his desk and slammed his forehead into its surface a few times, groaning in exasperation at himself. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! What were you thinking? **You weren’t, and now he has made a situation out of it.**_

He couldn’t back out of this deal. And as much as he felt like taking it back, a small part of him was secretly glad that he could spend a few extra hours with Takao. Cursing his soft-heartedness, he tossed the phone back into the sea of papers, then buried his face in his hands. _Looks like I have no choice but to study now._

By his left hand, the little hawk and the piece of paper sat forlornly, forgotten in the aftermath of his restlessness.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Takao hummed as he pulled the rickshaw, uncaring that it was heavier than it was the day before. _I’m going on a study date with Shin-chan~_ The veiled invitation he had received the night before was in every way a surprise, but a pleasant one. He never expected Midorima to be the one to suggest it, especially since they had just patched up their friendship. _He probably said it thinking that it was a completely normal thing to say. Ah, well._ Nevertheless, Takao wasn’t the type of person to miss out on a golden opportunity, even if that golden opportunity was sometimes the most thick-headed person he had ever had the chance to interact with.

The weight of the rickshaw that day was proof of that. The day’s lucky item was a statue of a carp leaping from a stream, and it was so heavy, he wondered how Midorima could stand carrying it around the whole day. He, for one, was counting himself lucky that no one had decided to mutilate the statue. Not that he particularly minded keeping the other students away from Midorima’s lucky items, but it did get tiring to witness their childishness day after day for almost a whole year. One example would be that time they thought it would be funny to swipe the orange iPod from Midorima’s desk – which actually belonged to Takao.

The greenhead, naturally, was frantic about losing the item. But whether his worry was because it did not belong to him, or because his luck that day would plunge dramatically, Takao would never know. Because when he had found out about it, he had gone straight to the culprits and not-so-subtly demanded it back. They had insisted it was a joke and that Midorima was rich enough to replace it, to which he had simply asked them to check the name of the device. He had watched understanding slowly dawn on their faces, but the damage had already been done. Before then, he had never really thought of himself as an intimidating person, but their cowed expressions after he had retrieved what was rightfully his suggested that that idea was not so far from reality. (Midorima was none the wiser when the iPod had reappeared on his desk, and Takao intended for it to remain that way. _Besides_ , he thought to himself, _this is as close as I can get to being a knight in shining armour._ )

He shook off the memory, and saw that they were approaching their destination. Pulling up in front of Midorima’s house with all the expertise of a seasoned parker, he then hopped off to chain the rickshaw to the lamppost. He could hear the greenhead climbing out of the back, and there was a muffled grunt as he lifted the statue from the cart.

“Shin-chan, lemme help you with that.” He hoisted the statue from the taller boy’s hands, jerking his head towards the house. “How will you open the door if your hands are full?”

The shooting guard’s lips twitched upwards briefly as he handed over his load, and Takao grinned to himself. Midorima’s expressions were getting easier to read as they opened up to each other(or rather, as Takao wriggled his way deeper into Midorima’s life), but he wasn’t about to tell the tsundere that. The tiny smiles and exasperated eye rolls, the forced sighs and false masks of irritation – they were part of an unspoken language that he was fast becoming fluent in.

Takao slid into the house with the typical greeting of “Sorry for the intrusion”, and found Midorima laying out the guest slippers. Slipping the indoor shoes on with a secret smile, he followed the taller boy to his room and deposited the statue in the corner indicated to him.

“So, Shin-chan,” Takao said as he straightened up. “What are we studying first?”

“Which subject are you least proficient in?” There was a soft scraping as the greenhead tugged a low table from the cupboard, and Takao hurried to help him set it up. Their hands brushed a few times as they struggled with the portable table, and Takao admitted to himself that he wished they had more moments like these.

“Social studies. But y’know, you don’t have to say it like that. Makes me sound stupider than I am.”

“Social studies should be your best subject, since you’re so sociable all the time.” Midorima muttered as he laid out the study material. He pointedly did not mention anything about Takao being stupid, which the ravenhead was grateful for.

“Did you just attempt to make a joke, Shin-chan? I must be rubbing off on you.”

“Just sit down and start studying.” There was a faint red tinge on Midorima’s cheeks, and Takao let the matter rest – for the moment. After all, it was not every day that he managed to get his tsundere to blush.

_It’s not every day I get to go on a date with Shin-chan either._

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Several hours later, a shrill ringtone cut through Takao’s homework-induced haze, and he fumbled blindly in the direction of his bag. Watching him struggle to locate the device within the bag, Midorima plucked it from his grasp and handed him the phone after a moment of digging. He received a tired “Thanks” for his efforts, and was about to return to his work when he heard a familiar shriek.

 _“Kazu! Have you_ seen _the time?!”_

“No, Kaa-san. Too busy studying.” Takao supressed a yawn, and Midorima tried very hard to pretend that he was not listening.

A snort. _“More like you were busy sleeping. Where are you?”_

“Shin-chan’s house. I told you I’d be late coming home when I left this morning.”

There was silence on the other end for the span of a heartbeat. When the lady next spoke, there was forced nonchalance in her voice. _“Well, ask if you can stay over again. It’s Friday. And you know how our district gets on Fridays.”_

“…give me a moment.” Takao pulled the phone away from his ear and looked up at Midorima hesitantly. “Shin-chan? Would it be inconvenient for you if I were to stay over for the night?”

“It should not be an issue. But I will have to inform my parents.” Takao gave him a weak smile, then put the phone back to his ear. “Hello, Kaa-san? It’s fine, I can stay. What time do you need me back tomorrow?”

_“As long as you get back before the customers get here.”_

“Alright. See you tomorrow.” A muted click was heard as the call was disconnected, and Midorima scanned through the worksheet in front of him, hoping to act like he had not been listening. A soft sigh came from beside him, and Takao’s head came to a rest on his shoulder.

“Takao. You should stop using me as a body pillow as and when it suits you.” Those were the first words out of his mouth, and he instantly regretted them, although the boy next to him did not seem very perturbed by it. Takao simply sighed again. Midorima said nothing, and just as he was about to truly focus on the assignment, he heard the ravenhead speak in a small voice.

“Am I really not a bother to you, Shin-chan?”

“In what manner are you asking?” Midorima’s heart rate increased with nervousness.

“This is the second time in three days I’ve stayed over without notice. Isn’t it troublesome?”

The greenhead set down his pencil, resting his head on his fist. “Not particularly. This house is fairly quiet most of the time, and there are hardly any activities that you would be intruding on.”

Takao remained silent, and Midorima took a peek at his friend. “It is not like you to be so morbid. What is the matter?”

“Nothing.” Takao shook his head, the movement wrinkling Midorima’s shirt. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stared despondently at the pile of papers before him. “Can we take a break? My brain’s all fuzzy.”

Midorima pretended to consider his request. “Ten minutes. I want to have this done before we have dinner. I will go get refreshments, is there anything in particular that you want?” The taller extracted himself from the table, stretching his arms above his head. _Hmm. Perhaps we_ have _been studying for too long. My muscles are stiff._

“At this point, I wouldn’t mind having some shiruko. I think I’m sugar-deprived.” Takao moaned as he stretched out on top of the table, crumpling some papers and dropping several pens in the process. Midorima nodded, though he knew the ravenhead wouldn’t be able to see it. “I’ll be back soon. Try not to fall asleep.” The only response he got was the sound of crumpling paper.

He slipped out of the room and padded down to the kitchen. As he thought, his mother was already preparing dinner. He allowed the door to click shut behind him before addressing her. “Okaa-san. Can Takao stay the night and join us for dinner?”

“Hmm? Oh, that should be fine. Shall I get the extra futon?”

“No need to, I will retrieve it. Thank you for letting him stay.” He dug around in a cupboard and unearthed two cans of shiruko, hoping to make a hasty retreat. As he was about to leave, Fuyumi commented off-handedly, “Your father will be home tonight.”

Midorima froze in the doorway, cold sweat starting to bead along his spine. “Business or casual?”

“Business. He has returned from a long trip, and you know he will not tolerate anything short of perfection.” Her voice softened a little. “Do you want to take dinner in your room?”

“…no. I believe it would be best if I faced him now, rather than later.” He made to leave the kitchen, but was again interrupted by Fuyumi speaking. “Perhaps you should warn your friend first.”

“Yes, I think that would be the best course of action.” Midorima muttered softly, sliding the door shut behind him.

He returned to his room feeling rather dispirited, and was only broken from his reverie when Takao spoke. “Shin-chan? Why the long face?”

Midorima took a deep breath. There was no escaping this unforeseen circumstance. _Better to get it done and over with._ “My father will be returning from a business trip tonight, and will be dining with us. He is…strict, and it is prudent that you do not speak unless he speaks to you first.”

Takao blinked at the sudden situation as he accepted the can of soup. “I think I can do that. Is he really that bad, Shin-chan?”

“You have no idea.” Realising he said that out loud, he quickly busied himself with opening and downing the can’s contents. Takao looked at him curiously, then shrugged.

“Alright, I’ll be on my best behaviour, then.” _How bad could it be, really?_

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It was worse than he thought.

The atmosphere was so formal, it made him feel out of place, even though nobody – save Fuyumi – was dressed in traditional costume. There was a very stiff vibe about Midorima-san, and every time the man glanced his way, he could feel his disapproval washing over him. And the scariest thing about the situation was the silence that hung over the table – it made Takao feel as if he were about to be persecuted. He felt on edge the whole time, and was fervently praying that the ordeal would be over soon.

It was only when they were close to finishing the meal that the older man spoke for the first time. “Shintarou. Introduce your friend to me.”

Midorima cleared his throat and met his father’s eye for a moment before looking down. “Otou-san, this is Takao Kazunari, my classmate and fellow member of the basketball team.”

Takao hurriedly bowed his head as the shooting guard finished speaking. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Midorima-san.”

"And the same to you, Takao-kun.” _Alright. So far, so good._ “Have we met before? You look vaguely familiar."

Midorima stiffened beside him. _Okay, not good._ Takao put on his politest smile and replied, "No, sir. I don't think anyone with my humble background would have had the pleasure of meeting someone as esteemed as yourself before today."

"Quite right.” Midorima-san nodded, as if what he said was perfectly normal. “Who did you say your parents were again?"

Takao continued smiling, though he could sense Midorima gritting his teeth beside him. He felt a little offended by the underhanded jibe, but it was probably nothing to a man of Midorima-san’s caliber. "I didn't say, sir. They are carpenters, and we make a simple living, just enough to get by."

"Hmm. If that's so, then perhaps you could take a look at some of our furniture and  give an opinion on it."

 _No. No no no._ Midorima shot Takao an alarmed look in spite of his fear of his father, warning him not to fall into the trap. He felt Takao's knee nudge his gently, as if telling him not to panic.

"I would be honoured to do so, Midorima-san. However, I do not have enough expertise to be able to draw a conclusion that befits your pieces' worth. If you'd like, I could arrange a date for my father to come down and gauge the furniture himself." Midorima exhaled gently in relief. He need not have worried. Takao could fend for himself, and his eloquent way with words seemed to have impressed even his prickly father.

"No, that is quite alright. I would not intrude on your father's time. I am sure he is a busy man. Shintarou," Midorima nodded stiffly in acknowledgement. "Come to my study later. Takao-kun, thank you for entertaining the whims of an old man."

Takao bowed in response, and the elder Midorima stood to leave the table. Once his footsteps had faded away, Fuyumi spoke lightly. "That went well. Shintarou, can you help to clear the dishes please?"

The taller boy nodded and rose to his feet. As soon as she was sure he was out of earshot, Fuyumi turned to Takao and spoke in a conspiratorial tone.

"The last friend of Shintarou's that my husband approved of was Akashi-kun, and that was because he came from an influential family. I'm glad to see that you have managed to change his stubborn mind-set that only well-bred boys can be polite." She winked at him, then stood up to leave as well. "You should go back to Shintarou's room first. His meeting with his father may take a while."

Nodding his assent, Takao followed her out of the room, none the wiser about what would happen.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Midorima stood outside his father's study, trying to calm his breathing before he entered. These impromptu meetings after his father returned from trips never boded well for him, and he could scarcely remember a time when he left this room without negativity weighing down his heart.

Steeling himself against the inevitable, he lifted a fist and knocked twice. Two seconds passed before his father's voice called out, "Enter."

He stepped inside the warmly lit room, the door shutting behind him with an ominous click. The atmosphere of the room was heavy, a stark contrast to its lighting. Behind the desk, the older man had yet to look up from his work, which meant that he, as a guest, could not yet speak or move. It seemed like an eternity before his father set aside the papers and beckoned him forward.

"How have your grades been?" There was a new stack of papers in his hand, one he recognised as his test papers. _Straight to the point, as always. Two can play at this game._

"Satisfactory. My Literature requires some work before it reaches an acceptable standard, but I believe that I will attain that standard on the next test." Midorima recited smoothly. His father nodded, eyes scanning over the test sheets.

"And your basketball?"

"The practice is gruelling, but our plays have improved. I am working on a new trump card that will undermine the opponents' defences, and it has been proceeding according to schedule."

"Does this trump card, by any chance, include Takao-kun?"

"Yes." Midorima answered without hesitation. It was better not to lie. He wasn’t sure how his father knew, but braced himself for the worst, just in case.

"And pray tell, how would working with someone else, who has their own flaws, enable you to improve your level of play?" The older man's gaze was condescending, and though resentment had already begun to bubble up within him, Midorima kept a lid on it.

"It is precisely because the opponents would not expect a cooperation play that it will work. That said, it is a trump card to be utilised only after all other plays have been countered and the team requires a morale boost. The coach has approved, and we will follow his decision."

The older Midorima looked like he was considering the strategy. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. It is actually a good idea.” _Of course it is, and Coach Nakatani is the one who is writing our training menus, not you. **Keep a lid on it. Calm face, bury it in your heart.**_

“There is another thing." The younger froze, halfway out of his seat, then sank back down into it gradually. "There is something about Takao-kun that seems oddly familiar, and I intend to find out what."

His son gave a strangled laugh. "Otou-san. I am certain that none of us have ever met him before. I don’t believe I have ever met someone as obnoxious as him before high school." _Forgive me for defaming you, Takao._

His father looked at him closely, as if trying to weed out the lie that he knew his son was concealing. "No, I suppose not. I would remember such an 'obnoxious' person." He held his son's gaze for a moment longer, then turned away to pick up another stack of papers. "Very well. You may leave. I expect a better report in the next round of tests."

"Yes, Otou-san." Midorima pushed himself off the chair, trying not to let his relief show. It was only when he was about to reach for the doorknob that his father spoke again.

"Ah, yes. I remember now.” The greenhead turned his upper body slightly to meet his father’s eyes. "Takao-kun is oddly reminiscent of your orphan friend back when we still lived in that sub-urban area."

Midorima forced himself to keep a neutral stance. "Otou-san, it was your decree that we not speak of him anymore."

His father nodded in approval. "Excellent. I see that you have not forgotten, Shintarou. Let us keep it that way. And anyway," he mumbled, almost as an afterthought. "I doubt that boy could have survived this long on his own." He stopped himself, as if suddenly remembering that someone else was present in the room.

Levelling his gaze, he repeated himself. “You may leave, Shintarou.” The younger bowed, then backed out of the room slowly. _How does he know? It is possible that he doesn’t, and it is merely a lucky guess, but… I must warn Takao._

 _It will not be good when he finds out that Takao_ is _my friend, the one we thought we buried years ago._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the last one for a while, I need to take a break and work on some other fics. Also, school is crazy, especially since it's my final year.


End file.
